Moving. Again with the packing and the stuffing and the "What is this?"
Moving myself and all my stuff. This is the second time I’ve done this since last September, you’d think I’d be better at it. You’d really think I’d have an easy time of it, since I’m leaving a lot of my stuff for charity (the big things, like my scarred bureau and my dismasted canopy bed that I inherited from my sister) and only taking the things I can realistically load, stuff, trample and mangle into my car. I mean, I’m buying a lot of my stuff all over again. I’m moving into a smaller place. Why is this hard?
I think it’s because I’m feeling a little rootless. Work, I feel rooted. The commute’s becoming that thing I do in the morning easily enough. But I’m living in a guest suite. I think I’ll feel more stable once I’m moved in, settled, signed up for various utilities and can get wireless broadband and my server going again. My books too. Once I get my library moved, that’s when a house becomes a home for me.
Of course, I still need to get all that stuff moved. Fun. Good thing I’ve been buying mainly ebooks lately, I’m probably saving myself about fifty pounds.
Moment of Zen